


(Between A Rock and A Hard Place) I'll Take the Sky

by EzzyDean



Category: Free!, Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a game he plays, especially on Tuesday afternoons when the garage is stuffy and the customers are limited and his assistant is busy napping away the hazy day, and he smiles as he adds another filthy rag to the pile.  Two hours and a dozen rags later a muffled snort of disgust reaches his ears as the pile shifts and falls to the floor.</p><p>“Damn it Mikoshiba all I can smell is motor oil and your sweat.”</p><p>“Stop sleeping on the job and I’ll stop mistaking you for the laundry bin.”</p><p>--</p><p>When summer rolls in you can feel it.  On your skin, in your hair, clinging to the back of your throat with each swallow and breath of warm air.  It's the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, the feel of sweat slick on your forehead, the shutter of a camera capturing snapshots of your flushed cheeks and dizzying laughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rin has always reminded him of summer.  He didn’t know if it was because it was blindingly sunny and hot the day they met or because Rin somehow just  was summer.  Open skies and starry nights spent staring into the sky along river banks and on rooftops, searching out shadows and playing hide-n-seek with the sun.  Sticky days under the blazing sky, the almost claustrophobic press of too many too warm bodies in the city, leaden blanket of humidity dragging you towards the cement the moment you step out.  The hush in the air as thunderclouds rolled in, the caught breath waiting for the first crack of lightning, the sweet relief when the clouds finally break.  Rin is and will always be a summer storm, a force of nature that sweeps through the land, and Kuroo Tetsurou has always loved watching storms.

So when Rin pulls into his parking lot one afternoon, eyes filled with distant thunderheads and wild winds behind the clear shield of his helmet, he slides his own helmet into place and follows the rumbling of his friend’s bike straight out of town.

He follows him onto the highway, glimpses of houses higher away in the hills flickering between high glass buildings that seem to shimmer and warp in the hot sun.  The day is already warm without taking into account his dark leather jacket and black helmet sucking in the rays and he can feel the sweat pooling under his clothes but that discomfort is nothing like the feeling of seeing Rin’s eyes dim and darken and turn morose at the sight of him on a bike without the protective gear.  Besides he knows the wind from their ride will even out the heat as soon as they break clear of the city and if he knows Rin - which he does pretty well by now - he knows exactly where their first stop will be today: the hills overlooking the sea.

Rin pulls his helmet off and Tetsurou is jealous.  That damn hair always looks nearly perfect, even coming out from inside of a motorcycle helmet.  His hair should have been plastered to his forehead, ponytail a mess and falling out, sweaty strands going everywhere.

Yet the ass only looked slightly ruffled with reddened cheeks from the heat of the helmet and a few loose strands of hair already blowing in the breeze off the sea.

“How in the hell do you do that?  Magic?”

His grumbles about the easy flawlessness of Rin’s hair compared to the ever-present bedhead status of his own usually got him a grin, a fond laugh and eyeroll.

Today it merely gets him a sigh as Rin settles his helmet on his seat and heads for the top of the hill.

It’s one of those days then.  

He takes his time in joining Rin.  Stretching a bit and peeling off his gloves before stuffing them into his helmet and setting it on his seat, running his hand through his sweaty hair.  He’s glad he didn’t bother trying to do anything with it today; he gets bad enough helmet hair without the assistance of hair gel.

It may be sunny and clear out but standing next to Rin he feels that other side of summer washing over him.  Growing wild in the space between them.  Clouds low, sky lower, air hot and almost suffocatingly damp.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a game he plays, especially on Tuesday afternoons when the garage is stuffy and the customers are limited and his assistant is busy napping away the hazy day, and he smiles as he adds another filthy rag to the pile.  Two hours and a dozen rags later a muffled snort of disgust reaches his ears as the pile shifts and falls to the floor.

“Damn it Mikoshiba all I can smell is motor oil and your sweat.”

“Stop sleeping on the job and I’ll stop mistaking you for the laundry bin.”

“Gimme something challenging to do and I’ll stop sleeping.”

“How about if you don’t stop sleeping on the job you don’t get paid?” 

“What the hell am I supposed to do when there’s nothing in the shop to work on?”

Seijuurou’s eyes slide from where his assistant is still slouched in a chair with a scowl on his face, feet on a nearby pile of boxes, to the corner where a mop and broom have been tossed then back towards a shelf of messily tossed cleaning supplies.

Aomine’s eyes widen and he snorts out an ugly laugh.  “Seijuurou.  There are weeks I don’t even clean my own apartment.”

“You don’t get paid to clean your apartment.”  Seijuurou sighs and wonders, not for the first time, if hiring Aomine Daiki as an assistant was a good thing or not.  The guy was talented, there was no doubt about it, there was barely a vehicle or part that he couldn’t handle or fix up, but Seijuurou often felt like he had hired a child; unless he felt like it there was next to nothing that could motivate him to doing anything.  Well there was one thing, one person, who could get him to do nearly anything and Seijuurou was not above using her name for leverage.  “Don’t make me call Momoi.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I most definitely would.”  He laughs as a sudden thought perks up in his mind.  “Even better I’ll have her swing by and pick Momo up and they can both come visit us. Maybe we can have a late lunch.”

Seijuurou is sure he sees Aomine’s dark skin turn three shades paler at the thought of both Momo and Momoi descending upon them.  It’s hard to tell when he shoves away from the chair and grumbles to himself while he grabs the broom from the corner.  He’s not sure what makes Aomine so afraid of the combo.  It’s not like Seijuurou was suggesting Momoi and his own sister come to the shop.  

Now that… that’s something to be properly afraid of.


	3. Chapter 3

The air is stifling, barely a breeze puffing through as she wanders down the street, floppy hat on her head nearly as droopy as she is.  She wasn’t even sure she should be this far onto the edge of the city.  It’s not her normal place to be and while she’s sure she can find her way back home easy enough the lack of tall buildings is throwing her for a loop.  She’s used to the almost terrifying experience of looking up and up and up and seeing nothing but sleek glass and steel and cement rising up to the sky, the smallest swatches of blues and whites and greys peeking through.

But here the buildings are a few stories at most, the sky is actually huge, the people meander instead of push, and the thrum in the air is from the nearby bar and not the rush of traffic and lights and people vibrating between everything.

She’s already a little on edge as she stops in front of the dust colored door with a bright orange open sign hanging in the window thanks to Tsukishima.  Why she had even listened to him in the first place when he told her to follow him to put up one of her fliers in the business he’d been doing his latest project at she had no clue.  She should have just given him the paper and let him do it himself.  But something about that didn’t sit right with her either, probably because Makoto had already put up a ton of fliers himself even with his long shifts at the fire department and she didn’t want to let him down somehow.

So she had followed Tsukishima as he led her through the city, barely even glancing back when she had slipped her fingers around his camera bag’s strap so she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd, and through this side street and that alley until he had stopped in front of a small shop.  A shop that looked normal and nice and a lot like the door she’s now staring at as she debates the merits of heading home and maybe handing out the rest of the fliers tomorrow when she went to the store.

Because she’s honestly not sure she can handle accidentally stepping foot into another tattoo shop or something.  A  _ tattoo _ shop what was Tsukishima even _thinking_?  With all the needles and buzzing and the scent of ink heavy in the air conditioned building.  Though to be fair she supposes that she can’t be too upset since everyone in there had agreed to put up a flier at their various businesses and jobs after she had stumbled her way through who she was and what she was doing.  But still.  Tsukishima could have warned her or something since it’s not like he had actually told any of them what his latest project was on.

She’s almost convinced herself to call it a day when a breeze kicks up, brushing her sundress against her knees, and rattling the papers clenched in her hand.  She looks down onto the page and sees the imploring eyes of Koko, the tortoiseshell kitten at the shelter she and Makoto had decided to use for their fliers, and she feels her heart clench.  They needed this fundraiser, needed to raise money and get these animals homes.

A voice inside draws her attention and she pushes the door opened with a determined nod.

Then she immediately freezes in the doorway because okay she’s gotten used to basically everyone being taller than her but it still throws her off when she suddenly opens a door and spots four tall muscular guys - two decked out in leather with bike helmets in their hands and two covered in dirt and grease - standing a few feet away arguing about something.  The leather clad ones almost look like they could be in a gang or something with the way they’re all leathery and sharp smiles and too pretty to be real.

One of the leather guys laughs at something and then one of the grease covered guys leans forward and grabs his jacket and her eyes go wide because oh what if they  are  a gang and this is some kind of fight between gangs and she’s a witness and that never turns out because she’ll have to testify or something if she makes it out alive.  What if she doesn’t make it out alive?  What if they turn - like the shorter of the two leather gang is totally doing - and they spot her and kill her and chop her up or bury her or something and then her kittens at the shelter will never get their picnic/bake sale to raise money for them and -

A panicked squeak pops out of her as the door swings shut on a gust of wind and suddenly all four pairs of eyes are on her as her handful of fliers blows out of her hands and scatter - thanks to the combined effort of the gust of wind and the huge industrial fan whirring in the corner - through what she now realizes is a garage of some kind.


	4. Chapter 4

He wakes with a start when someone taps his knee and the smell of coffee hits him the same time the chill of the air conditioner does from the vent across from him.  He’s sure the sun is beating down on the city but he wouldn’t know.  He’s been curled up in the chair in the corner of Daichi’s shop since sometime last night, proofs and notes and ideas spread out around him as the city sleeps, then rises, and crashes into the morning sun.  

Daichi’s talking to him, he can hear the rumble of his voice under the music from his headphones and he slips them off in time to hear Daichi’s laugh.  It’s rough, something that seems out of place out in the city with the shining glass and reflective steel, but in this little world tucked down alleys and side streets, it fits perfectly.

“If you keep sleeping in my chair where am I going to sleep?”

“The bed in your apartment upstairs maybe.”  Kei doesn’t bother to hide his own roughness, his sharp tongue and acidic personality that cuts through the waves of pointless drivel he puts up with on a daily basis in his work.  He didn’t become such a well known photographer at such a young age by playing nice and giving in to what people thought they wanted in a photograph.  They all thought they wanted the gloss of the city, shining bright.

They never thought to look past that, beyond the shimmering sea of glass and into the gritty backbone of steel that held this place up.  What they thought they could hide in the light of day, in the fuzzy shadows of the noon sun, Kei dimmed and darkened and drug into the cool calculating light of the moon, accentuated with the sharp shadows thrown by moonlight.  The blanket of stars that draped high across the sky and made the cloying stickiness of life a little more bearable and vibrant.

The coffee is bitter against his tongue and he grimaces to the tune of Daichi’s rough laugh.  Daichi never took anything too sweet and he never gave anything too sweet either.  Kei’s grown used to it in the months he’s been stopping by but sometimes he longs for the touch of sugar on his lips, the rush of sweetness on his tongue.

Daichi leans in close as Kei drops his head against the chair and watches him skim through the proofs spread out around him.  Daichi is the steel backbone to the fluttering glow of those around him and Kei wonders if someday he can show that to the world.

“That one,” he says as he taps one near Kei’s knee and then straightens.  “You hungry?”  Before he gets an answer he’s already at the door, heat creeping in and battling the artificially cool air for dominance.  “Hold down the fort for me would ya?”  And just like that he’s gone.

He drops his eyes to the photo Daichi picked out.

It’s of Sugawara, bathed in stripes of color from the neon sign in Daichi’s front window, slumped over a low table with his school work spread across it.  The stripes drape across his bare back and give the cat eyes on his shoulder an almost ethereal glow where they sit atop a pair of feathers, one black one white.  His fingers are wrapped around a cup of still steaming tea and his head is tucked into his arm.

It’s not just Suga’s tattoo that catches his eye though.  It’s the three pencils scattered on the table, one nearly falling off the far edge.  It’s the wisp of steam from the tea turning into a rainbow.  It’s the single crumpled paper pushed off to the side.  The fabric of Suga’s track pants pulling taut against his thighs.  The plant in the corner that Daichi really needs to remember to water more often.  The soft look of the couch in front of the table.  The contrast of Suga’s pale lashes against his cheek.

He pulls his stack of notes into his lap and flips to his piece on Suga.

The photo Daichi picked out is a perfect ending shot for it.

The air conditioner kicks on again, stirring his things as he tucks the photo of Suga into his notes and shoves the rest into a pile to be spread back out and sorted later.  Daichi’s rough laugh reaches him through the door as he takes another sip of his too bitter coffee and waits for the sun to reach it’s peak.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s the closest thing to relief from the stifling heat of the city he can get without a storm raging through.  The fact that it’s one of his favorite things to do and places to be is just a bonus.  He flops onto his back and stares up at the dark sky, not even caring about grass stains or dirt or bugs as the stars twinkle into view and the sight fills him with a sense of magic and wonder and nothing can ruin it for him.

Not even the body that flops onto the ground next to him for only a moment before wriggling and scooting until there is a head resting on his stomach.  He scrunches his nose a little at the heat that’s radiating off the shoulders pressed against his side but doesn’t say anything about it.  It’s a small price to pay to have this: a sea of stars overhead and an anchor holding him down.

They don’t talk, they rarely do on nights like this.  They simply let the minutes pass in companionable silence.  It’s a fact that would probably shock most of those that knew them.  They save that for the light of day, when the sun beats down and heat tries to seep through windows.  When they can throw wild ideas and far-fetched thoughts through the dust motes that float between them, illuminated by the sun.  Heated arguments that raise the temperature of the room degree by degree until the sweat trickles down their necks and gathers in the collars of their graphic tees; until the air between them is heavy with shared knowledge and dreams of the starry skies.

The almost hot press of Nagisa’s head against his stomach, the sweat darkening his t-shirt, his damp bangs sticking to his forehead, the humidity of the day hanging around as the stars come out and not a single breath of wind stirring the grass; everything adds up to make him feel a bit hazy tonight.  Like he’s had one too many shots of something and is watching everything flicker and waver into life through the smoke of a campfire and the laughter of friends.

“Nagisa,” he drawls out as he traces constellations in the sky with a heavy hand.  Nagisa hums in a way that he knows means he had almost fallen asleep despite the nearly suffocating heat of the night.  Nagisa hums louder and presses against his stomach when he doesn’t answer right away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m in love.”

“Did mister tall dark and leather show up at the library again?”  

Tooru thinks back to leather glowing in the library lights, the double piercing in his eyebrow twinkling like a star.  He sees piercing brown eyes above an unamused frown, spiky hair a mix of brown and black that made his fingers itch to run through it.

“He’s shorter than me.”

“Still tall in my book.”

“Everyone is tall in your book, Nagisa.”

“It’s a good book.  I have amazing views.”

“Of what?  Their shoulders?”

“Are you implying that tall dark and leather  doesn’t have amazing shoulders?  Weren’t you practically writing love songs about his arms last week?”

Tooru sighs and lets his eyes drift shut against the heat of the night and the heat crawling across his cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to Christine!

Someday.  Someday he will be able to speak properly to this man.  He will be able to walk up to him, ask his fine ass out, and go on his merry way like the smooth sophisticated person everyone who doesn’t know him thinks he is.

Yesterday was not that day.

Today is not looking so hot either.

But Mikoshiba is.  He is looking damn hot with his faded jeans covered in grease stained handprints and smudges and his light t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, tiny frayed strings resting against his well developed deltoids.  He briefly thinks that he’s been hanging around Rin’s little sister and her obsession with muscles a little too much this summer but then Mikoshiba bends down to grab a wrench he dropped and Tetsurou feels the muscles in his throat contract and he nearly swallows the sucker he has in his mouth whole and he kind of stops thinking about anything.

Luckily the droning buzz of the industrial fan in the corner keeps Mikoshiba from hearing his panicked coughs as he turns away from the sight of jean clad thighs and the urge to let his eyes drift higher over more jean clad muscles.  Unfortunately Rin is close enough to hear and he gives Tetsurou a knowing look.  He wants to pretend the flush on his cheeks is from the coughs or the fact he and Rin just hopped off their bikes a few minutes ago or maybe even the fact that the sun is beating down on the shop and the air is warm and heavy with the smell of grease and rubber.

“I’m surprised you haven’t bored holes into the back of his head by now,” Rin mutters as Tetsurou manages to finally swallow properly and breathe again.  He gives Rin a look that’s somewhere between betrayed and panicked as he gestures towards Mikoshiba.

_ Help me out _ , he mouths.

He’ll never be entirely sure just what it is that makes Rin do it.  Though he figures it’s at least fifty percent because Rin is a little shit when he wants to be, thirty percent because Aomine was near the desk giving them both sleepily amused looks, and fifteen percent simply because he could.  (The last five percent he generously figures is because Rin loves him like a brother and wants to see him grow and become less of a bumbling mess when it comes to interacting with people.)

“Hey Mikoshiba!”  The wrench clatters to the ground and Tetsurou looks up in time to see a flush of surprise color Mikoshiba’s cheeks before he bends and grabs the wrench again.

“Jeez Rin give me a heart attack why don’t you.  You practicing your creeper skills or something?”  Aomine laughs and Mikoshiba points at him with the wrench.  “And I suppose you knew they were there and didn’t say anything?  What have I told you about greeting customers properly?”

Aomine scoffs and flips the magazine on the desk in front of him open.  “What customers?  It’s just Sharky and Bed Head.  Here to ogle the goods like usual.”  He winks at Rin’s annoyed huff.

“Anyway,” Rin turns his attention back to Mikoshiba and slaps Tetsurou’s shoulder.  “Kuroo here wants to talk to you.”

Tetsurou is a leader.  He used to be in charge of things like his high school volleyball team and his cousins and the little gang of pre-teens that ran around his part of the city and got into tiny amounts of trouble when he was a teen.  Now his glares do nothing but make Rin grin at him and head off to lean against the desk nearby and obliviously flirt with Aomine.

Tetsurou can’t even intentionally flirt with the guy he’s got a crush on and Rin goes over and accidentally makes Aomine fall for him even more.  Why is this his life?

“What’s up Kuroo?  Bike giving you problems or something?”  Mikoshiba tosses the wrench in his hand into a nearby toolbox and gives him a grin.  He feels like he’s back on his bike under the blistering sun, burning up from the inside out as Mikoshiba’s eyes glide over his face.  He’s not sure if he actually sees Mikoshiba’s eyes drop to his lips when he rolls the stick of his sucker to the side to lick nervously at his lips or if it’s just his hopeful imagination that notes Mikoshiba’s eyes seeming to linger longer than necessary on the motion.

“Yes.  My bike.  Well no.  There’s nothing wrong with it,” the words start tumbling out of his mouth like marbles down a staircase, dangerous and slick, in the way that they do when he’s either nervous or drunk or just trying to bullshit his way out of a situation.  “Well there’s never anyone on me- it.  But you.  You touch it to repair it and well…”

This is going about as smoothly as he imagined it.  It’s sad, really, that even in his own imagination he’s a bumbling idiot around his crush.  Like he’s back to being an unsure teenager, arms too long for his body and tongue too thick for his brain, sweaty shirt plastered to his back as Mikoshiba’s grin turns slightly confused and Rin starts giggling at the desk.

He takes a deep breath, courage bolstered by the fact that Mikoshiba is still standing just a couple feet away smiling at him instead of backing away slowly and looking for an escape.

“What I’m trying to say is.  Well.  Wanna ride me?”  His lungs squeeze tight the same moment Rin snorts at the desk and his face burns as his brain stumbles to correct his words.  “My bike.  Ride my bike.  Go for a ride.  With me.  On… my bike oh god just bury me.”

He just wants to jump on his bike and maybe ride off into the nearest lake and never be heard from again.  He can already picture the glassy mirrored surface shattering as he falls in head first and sinks under the cool water, slinking lower and lower until he’s one with the seaweed.  Maybe he’ll become a mermaid or something.

Rin is snorting and crying and clinging onto the desk in an attempt to keep from falling flat on his face.  Aomine is staring at him like he can’t even look away from the wreck that is Tetsurou’s life right now.  Mikoshiba is… still giving him a smile that Tetsurou really thinks could power the lights of an entire city block or two.

“A bike ride sounds like it would be nice.  You planning on going to the fundraiser picnic for the animal shelter?”  He can only nod because he’s still ninety percent mortified and ten percent in shock that Mikoshiba actually appears to be accepting his blundered attempt at asking him out.  “Good.  You can pick me up around ten that morning then.”

Tetsurou takes immense satisfaction in the fact that Rin is now sitting on the floor because he laughed so hard he fell over and the fact that he now, finally, has a date with Mikoshiba.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter dedicated to Brewcha and her amazing Ushijima tag

Summer wasn’t all hot cement under your feet and neon lights painting your skin.  It wasn’t all stifling air and lethargic city streets clogged with traffic, hazy sunsets and blinding reflections.

Summer was a warm buzz, a swooping energy under your skin that rose to the surface and lapped against your ankles like waves in the sunlight, sparkling and glimmering and distorting the world beneath the surface.  Summer was a rainbow over the horizon that rippled and swirled in the distance, a welcome splash of color in the sky.

The door slips shut behind him, sealing out the hazy heady too warm fog of the city, and he steps into the clean buzz of his summer.  The cool whir of the fan on the counter, the everthere hum of the coolers in back, the cheerful whistling of his coworker and the brisk whoosh of the broom he’s using to sweep out the corners.

This was yet another side of summer most people forgot to notice.

“Ushiwaka.”  The whining voice drifting over from the cold cases against the far wall makes Hinata giggle as he slips behind the counter and drops money into the safe.

“Ushijima.”  The patient reply makes him giggle even more.

“Do you think Oikawa ever gets tired of doing that?”  Kiyoshi asks as he dumps out the dust pan.  Hinata hops onto the counter and watches, legs swinging in the cool air, as he swaps out the broom for a duster and starts cleaning the top of the shelves.  Sometimes he wonders and wishes and dreams of being as tall as Kiyoshi and the others.  He’s even had a few people hint that the only way to get a job at his shop was to be at least a foot taller than him.  Which wasn’t true but he has found that the tallest people he knows also seem to be some of the sweetest and simplest people to get along with.  Aone and Kiyoshi and Asahi and even Ushijima, despite their initial encounter.  He’s sure there are tall people out there that are jerks but he’s been lucky enough to encounter the ones with the kindest hearts and softest hands.

“If he got tired of it I don’t think he’d do it,” Hinata replies as the door opens and a wave of heat rushes in to lap at his ankles.

“Yo, Firecracker.”  Aomine’s voice is summer itself to Hinata; the perfect mixture of hot sunshine and cool starry nights that wrapped you up and drug you under.  Aomine was yet another of those tall guys with soft hearts that Hinata has found.  Except Aomine likes to hide his under harsh words and sharp grins that shove most people away, an armor of steel warmed in the sun.

But heat’s never bothered Hinata much anyway.

“Here for the order?”  Hinata leans back and grabs the receipt book from under the counter as Aomine strolls over.  “It’s not quite ready yet.”

“No hurry.  I needed a break.  Mikoshiba’s throwing gross rags at me again and talking about his date the other day.  As if I care.”  He drapes himself across the counter like a cat and eyes the poster behind it.  He looks just as much like a cat at that moment as the one on the poster does.  “Ah I see little Mouse came by here too.”

Hinata glances back at the poster for the animal shelter’s fundraiser.  “You know Yachi?”

“Well she lost her way into the shop a couple weeks ago and I think we scared the bejeesus out of her because Mikoshiba and I were both there along with Sharky and Bed Head.”

“No wonder she looked so terrified when she came in,” Kiyoshi says before nudging at Aomine with the duster.  “Move, please, or I’ll dust your face.”  He taps Aomine’s nose for good measure and he groans and drops off the counter.

“I’m just gonna wander a bit.”  Hinata waves him off and watches as he heads for where Oikawa is still pestering Ushijima.

The cooler is a nice place for Aomine to stick his head for a moment - the heat outside is still pretty thick and stifling even as the sun is starting to set and he had made the mistake of walking here - and he listens idly as the fluffy haired brunet he vaguely remembers from last time here bothers an employee he can’t remember seeing before.

“Come on, Ushiwaka-”

“Ushijima.”

“You can’t just stock this cooler forever.  Talk to me a bit.  Hinata won’t mind.”

Ushijima has an arm full of meat as he steps around the brunet and Aomine chuckles at the pout on the brunet’s face.  Ushijima gives Aomine a glance and then starts stocking the meat in his arms.

“Beef Balls,” Aomine states matter-of-factly and Ushijima doesn’t even pause in his task.

“Not beef balls, actually.”  He says as he pulls the older meat forward and stacks the new stuff behind it.  “Most people call them meatballs.  Popular for pasta based dishes.”

“Nope.  Your name.  From now on as far as I’m concerned you’re Beef Balls.”

A high pitched squeak draws his attention and he watches Fluffy Hair stifle a giggle, cheeks red, before turning on his heel and walking to the end of the aisle.

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“Beef Balls.”

“Aomine the order is ready!”  Hinata’s voice rings through the store and Aomine gives one last look at Ushijima.

“See you next time, Beef Balls!”  He calls out with a wave over his shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

Kei watches with mild interest as rain batters at the windows and turns the summer day into a watery canvas of smudges that only go even more out of focus when he slips his glasses off and rubs tiredly at his eyes.  He’s sure somewhere out there the people hurried through the city, heads bowed against the rain like they were at some sort of religious service and eager to be back into a warm dry place and away from the wet rage of an angry sky.  Lightning flashes and the window rattles at the thunder that booms through a moment later.  He glances down at the pile of photos spread out across the desk in front of him with a frown.

He really doesn’t want any part of the event coming up.  Especially not if Takao was going to be apart of it.  His photos were boring and his personality drove Kei up the wall.  It was bad enough being in the same photography classes as him for the last two years but they were always being compared and pitted against each other as “near geniuses” even though their preferred subjects couldn’t be any more different.

Kei photographed people, the way they moved through the city around them and carved a path in the world.  He saw past them and through them and exposed the very beat of their heart and the pulsing in their veins.  He displayed the delicate steel of their bones to the world in an arrangement of colors and objects and shadows.

Takao photographed landscapes and cityscapes.  Buildings and fields and streets in splashes of colors and nature that were sometimes as stifling as the heat of the city in the height of summer.

Yachi had insisted that they both be part of it because Takao’s pieces made you “miss a place you’ve never even been” and Kei’s made you “feel at home someplace you’ve never imagined.”

He didn’t get it.  At all.  Even when he told Daichi and the others at the shop and they agreed with her, at least about his pieces.  They had never seen Takao’s but if Yachi had her way, and she so often did - it was almost frightening the way that tiny girl had so many people in the palm of her hand without realizing it at all - everyone would see his pieces hanging up for sale right next to Takao’s at her fundraiser.  Any picture sold would go partially to them as the photographer and partially to the shelter.  He supposes it’s a good cause even if he’s not a huge animal fan himself and the free publicity from the event wouldn’t be horrible for him with graduation and the real world looming at his doorstep.

He can feel himself wavering, wilting under the imagined power of Yachi’s disappointed look if Kei doesn’t help out like the plants downstairs in Daichi’s shop are wilting because he forgot to water them again.

The problem then becomes what to print up for the fundraiser.  If he should get ahold of Takao so they can work on making complimentary pieces if possible so their styles and subjects don’t clash too much.  If maybe he should just keep focusing on his final project and use some of the photos he’s not going to use for that.  

His mind flashes to almost a year ago when he had stumbled into Daichi’s shop on a hot summer day, beads of sweat rolling under his t-shirt and pooling against his waistband as he pushed into the cool air of the shop with a relieved sigh.  He hadn’t even noticed the tattoo sign in the window, too lost on the way the bricks above the door led to a half dead plant on a balcony the floor above him to notice.  The first thing he did notice once his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the front room were the clean lines of the sturdy fingers resting on the counter.  Then he noticed the sturdy man they were attached to and the nearly bald man leaning across the counter, back to Kei, and the lines of ink scrolling up his arm and sneaking under his sleeves.  That was the day he knew what his final project, over a year away, was going to be about.  These men and the other people who found solace in this corner of the city, inside this shop with it’s neon sign and dying plant and solid owner.

He thinks back to those first pictures, to the initial idea that had drawn him in once he had gotten to know Daichi a bit more: the tattoo artist slash shop owner without a single drop of ink under his skin.  The smooth planes of muscles that had never felt a tattoo needle dip into them.

His thoughts drift to Daichi asleep in his bed with the evening sun painting his skin.  To Daichi standing on the roof and watching the sunrise, shadowed against the colors with the city spread out in front of him like it was his kingdom though he wasn’t a king.  He was a support beam meant to hold the city, and the people in it, up and raise them towards the sky they so desperately seemed to build themselves closer to.  As if each floor higher they built was a floor closer to the freedom of the sky.

Kei grabs his phone from the counter and sends off a message before going to dig his folder of those original photos from his bag in the bedroom.

_ [Tsukishima Kei: I’m doing the fundraiser and have an idea if you’re interested.] _

There’s a message waiting when he gets back a minute later.

_ [Takao Kazunari: An original Tsukishima Kei idea?  That I can be a part of?  Do tell.] _

He can never really tell when Takao is being sincerely condescending and when he’s just being a little shit about things.

_ [Tsukishima Kei: Come over to Black Wings Tattoo and we can talk about it.  Bring coffee.] _

Kei doesn’t even bother flipping through the folder in his lap once he settles into the chair by the door in the shop.  He knows every inch by memory and he’s already got the mockup of what he wants to do in his mind and it’s just going to be a matter of selling the idea to Takao. When Takao pushes into the shop, rain drumming into the pavement behind him, and shakes water from his hair with an eager grin and a steaming cup of coffee in one hand for Kei and a bag in the other with his own folder of photos Kei figures it will probably be a pretty easy sell.


	9. Chapter 9

The first time this had happened she had flown around the shelter in a panic, grabbing for band-aids and clean towels and the first aid kit she had stashed under the back counter for emergencies before rushing back to the front desk where Bokuto was standing with a fondly amused look on his face.  She’ll never be able to handle these situations with the grace and poise that other people might be able to but at least now when Bokuto slips in the side door, face bloody and nose wrinkling in irritation, she doesn’t nearly pass out.  Her stomach twists at the red on his face as she waves him to the back and follows after with her “Bokuto kit” in hand but she follows on steady legs.

She hands over the towel at the top of the kit and immediately pulls out a box of bandages but Bokuto waves her off.

“No.  None of it’s mine this time.”  He wipes his face off and flashes her a toothy smile.  “I promise.  It was just a slight misjudgement of snack time on my part.”

Yachi squeaks in surprise when the steady hum of the air conditioner cuts off and the room goes dark.  She reaches out to grab at Bokuto in the sudden blackness of the back room.  A warm glow comes from the front of the shelter, the hot sunlight shining in the front door most likely, and a lone pitiful whine comes from further in the shelter.  She can already feel the sweat beading on her forehead and threatening to plaster her tank top to her back in just the few seconds since the A/C cut out and Bokuto’s sun warmed arm is practically scalding under her fingertips.

“That was not me,” Bokuto says with a loud laugh as her fingers tremble against his arm.  It’s not the darkness that scares her it’s the suddenness that startles her and sends her body shaking and wary the same way a particularly loud clap of thunder can startle her into knocking her book off her lap or her sketchpad off her desk.  “Hey why don’t you head up front and see if you can find the number for the power company and find out what’s up.  I’ll check on things back here.”

It’s sweet and touching and entirely unnecessary but at Bokuto’s insistent nudging she gives in and hurries towards the light up front and lets out a relieved breath when she slides up to the desk and into the sunlight.  Okay maybe the darkness was just the teeniest bit of what scared her.  

She can hear Bokuto in the back talking to the animals and the telltale sloshing of him filling their water dishes in the dark.  His voice is loud but somehow it’s a soothing buzz in the background falling under the blanketed haze of heat slowly crawling its way into the building.  She digs out the power company’s number from her pile of paperwork - she really needs to remember to ask Makoto for help with that the next time he’s in - and half-listens to the rumbling storm clouds that is Bokuto left alone in the darkness with animals as she taps through the automated system for the power company’s phone line.

By the time he comes up front and lifts himself up to sit on the desk beside her and idly tap her chair with his foot she’s only managed to get through to the department to report the outage and is waiting to hear someone, probably a boring automated voice, tell her what exactly was happening and when it would be fixed; if it wasn’t going to be fixed soon enough she would have to find someone or somewhere to take the animals until it was.

“It’d be nice if the fundraiser could get us enough to get a backup generator for this place huh?”  Bokuto has quickly upgraded to gently spinning her back and forth on her chair while she waits for some kind of answer from her phone.  He’s practically a mini heater beside her and she can feel the sweat sticking her hair to her forehead and collecting on her phone as he generates enough heat she could practically boil herself some tea if it wasn’t a million or so degrees out already.  Too bad they can’t just hook Bokuto up to the generator.  She’s sure they’d save plenty of money if they could.

Just as she’s about to consider looking into the plausibility of human excess energy conversion later the automated voice tells her that the problem is already being looked into and should be resolved within the next hour before it starts running through more options she can choose from.  She hangs up and wipes her phone on her shorts with a grimace at the sweaty feel of it before setting it on the counter and tipping her head backwards to stare at the dimly lit ceiling.  Bokuto takes the opportunity to start slowly spinning in her full circles as her eyes drift shut.

“Something took down a electrical pole in the area but they should have it fixed in an hour.”  Bokuto starts humming something low and seemingly nonsensical and almost a little melancholic.  It reminds her of campfires under starry nights in the summer, head dizzy with smoke and the laughter of friends.  Or maybe that was just the feel of the front room slowly filling with sun and heat and the slow dizzy spin of her equilibrium going out of whack as Bokuto keeps spinning her slowly.  “You don’t have to stay with me you know,” she says.  Her voice wavers and wobbles and weaves in and out as she slowly spins.

“I don’t have to leave either.”


	10. Chapter 10

The sounds of summer are different for everyone.  For some it’s the crackle of campfires, the boom of fireworks, the roar of engines.  For others it’s the buzz of insects, the clatter of rain, the whir of fans.  For Nagisa the constant hum of the air conditioner and Tooru’s cheerful whistling from the other end of the library are the sound of summer.  Forget storms and sparklers.  Forget oppressive heat and sticky clothes.  Cool dry air, the scent of books, and the murmur of library patrons are summer to him.  He drops to the ground under the vent with a content sigh and gets back to work reshelving the section of poetry a bunch of young teens had pulled out and left on the floor.

The creak of a leather jacket and a flash of light out of the corner of his eye alerts him to the newcomer in his row and he grins as he puts another book on the shelf.

“Hello Iwa-chan.”  He doesn’t have to look up to see the touch of pink on his cheeks as the man sighs and he knows it’s not from the heat outside.

“Iwaizumi.  Hello Hazuki.”

“Nagisa.”  He shelves a couple more books as Iwaizumi continues to just stand there.  “Something you need Iwa-chan?  You actually here for books this time?”  The light reflects off his motorcycle helmet as he shifts and Nagisa glances up when he finishes reshelving the books in front of him.  Iwaizumi is standing at the end of the aisle and glancing towards the front of the library.  Nagisa feels a grin creep onto his face as he scoots forward and peeks out around Iwaizumi’s legs to see if… sure enough Tooru is sitting at the desk fiddling with his glasses as he skims whatever book or magazine he’s reading today.  “Or would you like help checking out my fellow librarian?”  He asks as he wraps an arm around Iwaizumi’s legs and props his chin on Iwaizumi’s knee.

Iwaizumi’s face blooms a shade of red that Nagisa hasn’t seen since the time Oikawa discovered he had been following him and moving each book he reshelved one shelf up and three books over for an entire week and Nagisa is a little worried that he’ll have to call the paramedics in.  Which actually wouldn’t be a horrible thing cause he hasn’t gotten to see Akaashi or Izuki for awhile and he feels like his pun-meter is running low.

He’s saved - sadly - from having to call when Iwaizumi looks down and suddenly realizes Nagisa is wrapped around his legs and proceeds to shake him off like he’s a puppy.

“Would you get off me?”

“Would you just ask Tooru out already?  He has an even bigger crush on you than you have on him.”

“I do n-” Iwaizumi pulls back into the aisle when Tooru glances up at his outburst with a frown, trying to place the source.  He glares down at Nagisa who simply smiles up at him.  Glares stopped working on him when he was like eight and realized they were usually used by people too emotionally constipated to admit that he was right.  “I don’t have a… I…”  He peeks around the corner again and then sighs.  “I am so screwed.”

“That’s why you’re lucky you have me, Iwa-chan.”

 

Tooru doesn’t even look up when Nagisa’s cheerful humming approaches the desk nor does he flinch when Nagisa smacks his hands down and takes an excited breath; he stopped reacting to a lot of Nagisa’s dramatics a week or so after they started working together, right around the time Nagisa stopped reacting to Tooru’s own quirks.

“Hey Tooru.”  Nagisa sings out and he flips the page of his magazine, skimming the article on new constellations found recently, without looking up.  “Your hot biker is here again.”

“Nagisa he’s not  _ my _ hot anyth-” he glances up and feels the blood rush to his face when he spots Iwaizumi standing behind Nagisa.  “Oh.  Hi.”  He finishes lamely.

Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck and laughs softly.

“Yeah.  Hi.”

Tooru almost wishes he were outside in the blinding sun so he could blame his flushed face and light-headedness on something other than the man in front of him.


	11. Chapter 11

Summer is teetering on the edge of autumn, tiptoeing between hot and cold in equal steps and it makes for some interestingly clothed days.  Scarves in the morning, shorts in the afternoon, sweaters in the evening.  Soon the crisp air and crunchy leaves would find their way down even the alleys and side streets of the innermost part of the city.

Ryuu loves it.  He loves the way the air goes from damp to crisp.  The colors that appear in the sky and the trees and the people.  The way even people’s clothing shift from the harsh bright neon of summer into the muted calm of autumn.  He loves the days he can open the doors of his shop and not have a single heater or fan or air conditioner running other than the ones for the handful of coolers and still have everything feel comfortable and welcoming.

Ryuu laughs and calmly settles the vase in his hands on the proper shelf when Kuroo stumbles in, loud and panicky, and startles poor Tachibana - dressed for the weather in a long sleeved t-shirt and beanie - near the door into nearly dropping the arrangement he was looking at onto the floor.  Tachibana flushes and hurriedly sets the flowers back down as Kuroo practically stumbles up to the counter with a sun flushed face and drops his helmet onto the rough wooden surface with a thunk that makes Ryuu wince; helmets are durable but really Kuroo’s lucky he hasn’t scratched the visor to hell by now.

“Don’t mind him,” he says to Tachibana after Kuroo drops his head to the desk as well, “he’s just got this whole crush thing going on and is panicking over it.”  

That just makes Tachibana’s face turn even redder, freckles popping out across his cheeks, and he pushes the black frames of his glasses up his nose with his knuckle and it makes Ryuu even more determined to get the quiet man to spill just  who he keeps coming in to buy flowers for.  Not that it really matters in the end but Ryuu likes knowing who his flowers are going to.  It makes it a little easier to pick out arrangements and vases and adornments if he knows it’s Ryuugazaki buying them for his offices or for a thank you gift or if it’s Izuki buying them as a gift for his mother or as an apology to one of his coworkers - and even then it’s easier if he knows if it’s an apology for Akaashi the paramedic or Kagami the firefighter.

It’s just his thing.

His sister says he’s being nosy.  He says he’s building familiarity and rapport with his customers.

Tsukishima says he’s being a floofy headed sap and Ryuu tells him to go to hell because his throne must be cold without his bony ass to fill it.

“I am a dead man, Tanaka.”

He’s vaguely aware of Tachibana listening in with a mix of concern and curiosity and he pats Kuroo’s arm sympathetically.

“Still haven’t managed to ask him out, huh?”

“No I did.  I have a date with him tomorrow morning before the thing.”  Kuroo gestures at the wall beside the counter.  The flyer for the shelter fundraiser is hanging there and Ryuu reminds himself to pull out the flyers and coupons he promised adorable little Yachi he’d bring to it later.  “I’m picking him up around ten and then we’re going to go to it together.”

“I thought it didn’t start until like 4 or something?”  If it starts earlier he’ll have to close the shop early to make it there.  He’d promised Yachi that along with his fliers and coupons he’d bring a few arrangements to sell and show off and to help out with random tasks.

“It doesn’t.  What am I going to do alone with him for like six hours, Tanaka?  I barely managed to ask him out and I made a ginormous fool out of myself in the process.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”  Ryuu knows that Kuroo tends to talk himself into circles and get a little tongue tied around someone he likes but he usually pulls out of it with some kind of divine grace, most of his ego still perfectly intact.  Surely Kuroo was just exaggerating for dramatic effect.

Kuroo jerks his head up.  “I asked if he wanted to ride me,” Kuroo practically wails and Ryuu is so glad that Tachibana is the only other person in the shop with them even though Tachibana nearly knocks down the display of single flower vases he had been glancing at when Kuroo wailed.

“Oh wow.  So did he say yes?”  Tachibana is seriously going to start an avalanche if he doesn’t stop almost knocking entire shelves of products over and Ryuu laughs.  Partially at Kuroo’s offended look and partially at Tachibana’s embarrassed cheek scratch when he meets Ryuu’s eyes.  “Come on up and join the conversation, Tachibana.  There’s not a lot better entertainment than watching Kuroo flail around about his super duper manly crush on the manliest man to ever man.”

“Hey if you ever saw Mikoshiba in a tank top and tight jeans sweaty with grease prints on him you wouldn’t be so judgey of me.”

“Naw man I’ll stick to staring at Tsukishima’s pretty friends and cuddling with my princess.”

“Your princess is a dog.”  Tachibana makes a surprised noise as he finally joins them and Kuroo rushes to explain.  “She is literally a dog.  His ‘princess’ is like a one hundred pound rottweiler.”

“Her name is Princess and she is one.  You’re just jealous cause I have someone who loves me unconditionally and doesn’t laugh when I make an idiot out of myself.”

“She also drools on you when she sleeps.”

“And you don’t?”

“That was one time and I was exhausted and to be fair you made a pretty good pillow.”

“I am pretty comfy.”  Ryuu grins and then raises his eyebrows in expectation when Tachibana looks like he wants to add something.  “Feel free to jump in, Tachibana, if you have something to add.”

Kuroo crafts his face into a pout drops his chin into his hand.  “Yeah go ahead.  I can take it.”

“Remember to tell Mikoshiba that for your date.”  Ryuu can’t help but snicker out and he watches as Tachibana’s face goes red.

“I was just, uh, going to ask if you…”  His face turns even redder and he shakes his head.  “No.  No it’s too mean and I don’t know you at all.  I’m sorry.  I’ll just-”

Kuroo straightens up and gets a slow grin on his face.  “Well now I’m curious.  Seriously, Tachibana was it?”  He nods.  “Seriously.  Just say it.  Life’s more fun if you can joke with people and make friends.”

“I was going to ask if you had a lot of experience chasing balls and playing with bones too.”  Tachibana rushes the words out and then immediately turns a shade of red that Ryuu’s pretty sure could make some of his flowers jealous.  “I’m so sorry,” he squeaks out and starts to back away.

Kuroo lets out something between a snort and a choking sound.

“Oh my god Tachibana that was wonderful.”  Ryuu manages to say around his laughter.  Kuroo is currently holding onto the counter, tears in his eyes as he snickers and tries to catch his breath.  Tachibana bites his lip and grins almost shyly at the praise.

“I don’t where you found him, Tanaka.”  Kuroo finally manages to stand upright and suck in a deep breath.  “But keep him.  Seriously.  This one is a winner.”

“I just run the shop.  I didn’t find him.  He found me.”

“Well whatever.  Feel free to hang around with me and this flower dork anytime, Tachibana.”  Kuroo waves him back up to the counter as his face turns serious.  “Now, seriously.  You guys gotta help me out with my date.”

People always talk about spring when they talk about new beginnings and fresh starts but when the autumn air blows in with a rattle of dried leaves and ruffles Tachibana’s hair - Kuroo’s is too wildly stubborn to move and Ryuu just got his head shaved last week - the rustling of Ryuu’s flowers and banners and ribbons hanging behind the counter sound like a the start of something pretty awesome when they mix with Tachibana and Kuroo’s laughter.  Let the romantics have the brittle end of winter and bursting fresh starts of spring.  He’ll take the quiet ending of summer and the subtle beginnings of autumn any day.


End file.
